Joyride
by Captain Hilts
Summary: A tale of friendship that begins with a more than a simple act of rebellion, Torn's younger brother Mik finds himself in trouble after his desire to be a racer sees him clashing with the Krimzon Guard- and Governer Praxis himself...
1. Dare Ya

The backdoor slammed behind him as he ran across the back porch, hearing his sneakers squeaking along the damp boards. A voice yelled at him from inside not to do that, but he ignored it of course, augmenting his annoyance with a deep roll of his eyes. He trudged along the deck and jumped from the top step to the soft ground, making two shoe-shaped grooves in the grass. A small breeze came in from above him and he shrugged on his favorite jacket, fiddling with the collar as he stepped out into the street.

He always felt older with the jacket on, loving every ding and scuff on it; it was dark blue in color, complete with d-rings and straps hanging from the sleeves and waist. A Krimzon Guard patch was sewn on to his shoulder, along with a few others that adorned the pockets, the logos of racing teams glaring out against the dark. A red armband wrapped around the boy's left bicep, mimicking the officers' uniforms in the KG, and on the back of his jacket, the word 'Racer' was blazed across the shoulder blades in scarlet precursor lettering.

"I'm ready," he grumbled as he walked, kicking at a few stray stones in his path. "I could do it. Who's to say I'm not talented? He's just being a jerk…"

The memory of the afternoon's argument was still fresh in his mind, in spite of the fact it had been hours now since it had happened. Twelve-year-old Mik heaved a sigh, and looked up at the sky through the screen of his bangs. The daylight was fading, and the Palace lights were beginning to show brightly. He could just hear the calm waves of Haven Coast lapping against the shore, and realized that it was the perfect night for skating. With his trusty JET-Board tucked lovingly under his arm, he continued on his path to the piers in order to catch up with his friends.

They were waiting for him by the bait shop as always, one looking impatient and the other seemingly tired. Mik held up his hand and waved to them from the other side of the street.

"Alix," he called, "Austen! Over here!"

The brothers-both fair-haired and lanky- looked up at the sound of their names and smiled at their friend, running across the street to join him. They caught several annoyed looks from nearby adults after neglecting to use the crosswalk.

"Tess finally let you go, huh?" Austen laughed as they continued walking toward their usual skating spot.

"Yeah," Mik sighed, "But not before she yelled at me for going in the water the last two nights. I fell in _twice_-you pushed me!"

Austen grinned crookedly, his grey eyes already laughing at him. "You just need to watch where you're walkin'."

Mik and Alix rolled their eyes. Whatever argument that was sure to follow was stopped by the latter, who ran forward and jumped on to his board. Mik and Austen tagged along behind them as they headed for the beach to use the dunes as half pipes, seeing as how they were prohibited to use the stadium skate park until they were sixteen. Mik threw his JET-board into the air and it popped open automatically. He jumped on top of it and floated ahead of Alix, performing a small kickflip as he did so, tongue sticking out all the while. His jacket lifted up, and one could see the large wooden boomerang tucked into back of his belt. He heard the other boys laugh and he frowned as he came to a halt, one foot still up on the board.

"What?"

"Haven't you learned anything _new_, Mik?" Alix asked, "You taught us how to do the 360 kickflip two weeks ago."

Mik bit his lip, running a hand through his hair. The Krimzon Guard Identity bracelet scratched against his forehead as he did so, and he frowned, rubbing the spot. Alix looked at him expectantly.

"…I haven't really been practicing much," Mik finally admitted, "I've been going to the stadium a lot with my brother's KG buddies."

Alix raised his eyebrows. "Really? Did anyone let you ride on the zoomers?!"

Austen crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Probably not. I think Mik just has a crush on that Libby girl."

Mik's cheeks turned slightly red, but he shook his head defiantly, strawberry-blond hair waving out around him. Austen snorted as if he didn't believe him, but Alix, more in tune with Mik's interests, pressed for more information.

"So what have you been doing?"

"Well…I haven't been able to ride on a racer since Errol took me on one like, last year," Mik said, a sad note to his voice, "But, since Miss Libby takes me to the stadium or Uncle Hector, they convince Errol to let me go on the track. He's taken me through the pit tons of times, and he even let me help repair some stuff on his car."

Alix's eyes went round. "Aw, so cool! I wish I knew Errol like you did."

"Well," Mik sighed, "He's not a bad guy…but since Torn found out, he's told me not to keep going back there. Only Libby lets me do what I want."

The boys didn't seem to notice the bitterness in Mik's voice as he spoke of his brother. Austen shook his head, making a face.

"It's not gonna happen. Torn's not gonna let you be a racer," he said.

"-Or a pilot in the KG," Mik added, "And what do you care, Austen? You're just jealous because you have an older _sister_ instead!"

The boy glared at him, but Mik just sneered, kicking his JET-Board up into his palms. The three friends continued their trek through the Coast, Mik spinning Torn's old I.D. band around absently. Alix heaved a sigh.

"I'm bored," he whined, "And since Icky Miky hasn't learned anything new to teach us, it's even worse."

Mik scowled. "You should try it yourself." He rounded on Austen next. "And I'm serious about being a racer, y'know! I can do it!"

"Yeah right. Your brother's a KG, Mik- a nice, 'obey the rules' kinda guy. He can't have a kid brother who's a racer; it'd look stupid."

Mik's hand grasped one of the handles on the boomerang threateningly. It had been a gift from Torn after he'd gone on a mission in the Wasteland, and the boy had perfected his skills with it. He'd been eight when he first started using it; now Austen was making fun of his brother- No one was allowed to do that besides Mik. Before he could speak, Alix laughed, hitting him on the arm.

"Yeah, and it's not like you'll ever beat Errol! We're just telling it like it is."

Mik scowled again, throwing his JET-Board over his shoulder. It snapped back to its compact size and he strapped it around him as they walked through the busy shopping sector of Haven Coast. He loosened his grip on the boomerang.

"Well, I don't care. Even if Errol's still racing when I'm eighteen, maybe I'll be the one to beat him." Mik raised his voice after his friends started laughing. "It can happen- The guy's not _unstoppable_!! And I could give him a run for his money, I promise you that."

Alix made a face and Mik shoved him. In spite of the fact that his friends were both taller than him, he still packed quite a punch; Alix was sent sprawling, though he managed to keep his footing and stumbled into a few other citizens. Austen fell into guffaws and Mik smirked.

"Alright, Jeez!" Alix huffed, straightening himself up, "Take it easy."

"Then don't tell me I can't race," Mik snapped, rolling up his sleeves distractedly.

"All I said was you're not as good as Errol- nobody is! You're good, okay? But he's the best."  
Mik clenched his jaw, looking up the sky to watch a few stars beginning to glimmer above. _If anyone could beat him, why not me? _ Austen spoke once again, always looking to get Mik riled up. It was his favorite thing to do besides skate.

"Y'know…we've never actually seen you race," he said, thoughtfully, "And there's no way anyone would let you get on a real NYFE to begin with."

Mik glared at him. "I've been on one. I've watched Errol race a million times; I know every switch, every gear, every hunk of metal on the NYFEs, and I've actually read a mechanic's handbook, so don't stand there and tell me I can't do it!"

Austen gave him a skeptical look; Alix heaved a sigh. Mik gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling as though it was very hot outside.

"You still don't believe me? Well alright then. Watch this," he hissed.

Mik threw his JET-Board to the ground and it popped open one again. His friends jogged along behind him as he went deeper into the busiest district of the Coast; shops lined the streets and walkways cast dark shadows over them. Above the sky was now crammed with vehicles. Alix didn't like where this was headed; he knew how Mik could get.

"C'mon!" he called, "What're you doing?"

The kid was just like his brother in moments like these; he didn't let a topic go until he was either proved right or wrong. If he annoyed the hell out of friends, family or colleagues in the process, so be it.

Mik hopped off the board and kicked it back into his hands, slinging it roughly over his shoulders. He ran around a corner, the shadow of the overpass masking him in darkness. The lights of the city flashed dully around them. Alix and Austen followed close behind. Mik looked back at them and smirked, nodding his head. The boys lifted their gaze to the parked vehicle ahead. Alix's eyes widened slightly.

"Aw, no Mik. Don't do it."

"A Krimzon Guard combat zoomer," he began in a somewhat sly voice, "1st class, with a remote turret, handle bar steering and a high-power blue Eco acceleration rate."

"What?" Austen said flatly.

Mik heaved a sigh, shoulders slouching. "She's a sweet ride Austen. They just built these ones. And they make them faster now, just like the NYFEs."

He looked back at Alix and gave him a knowing smirk. His friend shook his head, eyes still wide.

"Alright, you win. I believe you, okay?"

"No you don't. You never have- and this is when I prove you wrong," Mik countered.

He ran up to the parked Krimzon Guard vehicle, causing his friends to take in sharp breaths. They grabbed for him, but he twisted out of their reach. It was as if he was treading on sacred ground and being shamefully disrespectful. Briefly, he took a moment to judge the zoomer for himself.

It was painted a brilliant cherry-red, along with strips of jet-black that traveled along the sides of it; large black Precursor lettering highlighted the back bumper and the skull symbol of the Krimzon Guard glared out at him. Mik could just see his distorted reflection in the side panels as he walked closer. He looked back at his friends and beamed at them excitedly. Alix shook his head; Austen returned his smile.

Without further hesitation, Mik hopped on to the zoomer, scooting up in the seat farther than was necessary in order to reach the both pegs. Underneath his left sneaker was the pedal for shifting gears; his fingers gripped the handle bars in front of him, his right hand gripping the accelerator tight, his left curling around the clutch. He could just see over the dash, the city lights reflecting brilliantly off the hood.

"Mik, quit foolin' around!" Alix pleaded, "Someone's gonna see you!"

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, scanning the different gauges and meters which were blank at the moment. Shaking the bangs from his eyes, Mik inspected them with deep interest, muttering excitedly to himself.

"You can't go anywhere without keys," Austen called with a grin, dodging Alix's warning punch.

"Got that covered!" Mik answered.

He knew for a fact that every Krimzon Guard vehicle came equipped with an emergency start- he'd seen both Torn and Hector use it before. Hanging slightly off the seat, he searched for the switch-like device, tongue sticking out. The boomerang stuck strangely out from his belt as he searched. His hand passed easily over the smooth surface, and the zoomer suddenly shuddered to life. Mik's eyes went round, the strange green glow from the dash illuminating his face. His friends jumped in surprise, mouths hanging open.

Bright yellow letters had appeared on a screen beside the speedometer, blinking for a confirmation number. Mik bit his lip in thought, running a hand through his hair. The I.D. bracelet brushed against his head once again and he smirked, a revelation striking him. He typed the recruit number in on the touch screen and it blinked, flashing, '_Thank-you, Commander_' across the banner.

"You're welcome," Mik grinned.

He grasped the handle bars again and sighed, twisting the accelerator. The engine growled; adrenaline shot through his veins and his heart throbbed against his chest. Mik let out an uncontrollable laugh, whipping around to face his friends. Alix had turned pale; Austen was nodding rapidly in approval.

"Don't! Someone's going to _kill_ you for this!" Alix cried.

Mik narrowed his eyes and gave them an 'innocent' look, taking the zoomer out of park. It glided forward a few feet and he waved to them.

"Amazed or what?!" he laughed.

"Just wait a second!!"

"Awesome!" Austen shouted.

Mik set both his feet once again, one sneaker on the pedal, the other on the peg. He felt as if sitting on one of the racers, picturing what Errol would do. '_He'd go fast_,' came a sudden, excited thought, '_Faster than everyone else_.' Mik carefully scanned the road ahead of him, blotting out the darkness of the overpass and the citizens around him, treating it like an endless stretch of race track. He leaned even further over the dash and narrowed his eyes determinately.

"Here goes nuthin…"

Mik twisted the accelerator hard, and the zoomer lurched forward, a small burst of orange flame appearing from the afterburners. He could hear his friends shouting after him, but their voices sounded far off and strange to him. Mik screamed as the zoomer rocketed up the city street. One shout did come to him the, clear as the night.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing, punk?!"

He whirled around, watching as a Krimzon Guard came sprinting out of a nearby shop. Mik yelped again, fumbling with the controls. Austen and Alix were screaming at him to go faster. He pulled the zoomer clumsily around a corner, and was soon gone from sight. The KG growled and stormed after him, shouting all the while.

The chase had begun.


	2. Disappearing Boy

**Author's note: Sorry I didn't leave one last time! This chapter's a little short, but more is coming for sure. Alix, Austen, Hector and Mik all belong to me. Errol belongs to Naughty Dog. Just barrowing him for awhile. Ashelin, Torn and Praxis will appear later on, and they aren't mine, either… Happy reading!! :D**

Alix and Austen could only watch in awe as their friend disappeared around the corner, still underneath the overpass. A Krimzon Guard screamed furiously after him as he went. Alix grabbed a fistful of his hair, shaking his head. Austen jumped as high as he could, fueled by pure excitement. He whooped, punching the air with his fist.

"Aw, Miky's done it now," he cackled.

"Yeah," Alix said, "And it's our fault! What happens when they find him?!"

The boy shrugged. "Ah, they'll take it easy on him. We're _kids_, remember, nimrod? It'll be a slap on the wrist at the most!"

"Really? Something tells me I shouldn't listen to you," Alix huffed.

Before his brother could say anything in reply, he was cut off by a loud shout. They turned sharply to face the KG, who was stomping up to them. They weren't aware of it, but both of their faces had turned instantly pale.

"S-Sergeant Errol?" Austen choked.

He didn't respond at first, waiting until he was towering over him to finally say something. His eyes blazed with anger and his face was turning red. He held out his hands and snapped,

"Give me your JET-Board, kid."

Alix hugged it close to him, remembering only then that he'd been holding it in his arms numbly for the whole ordeal. Errol raised his eyebrows expectantly, clearly antsy to go after Mik as soon as possible. But Alix scowled.

"No! Why would I give it to you?"

Errol growled. "Because I am a Krimzon Guard and you are a child- I have the authority here!"

"I'm not a child!" Alix yelled defiantly. He tried to hold back a grin, realizing Errol didn't know they had seen everything. Now he knew what he could do.

"I don't care how old you are," Errol roared, "Give me the damn JET-Board!"

"No!" Alix repeated firmly, "Where's your stupid car?"

Austen almost laughed, nearly giving them away, but he bit his knuckles and managed to muffle a giggle. Errol growled again, pulling on his hair.

"A brat like you just _stole_ it!!" he screamed.

"Well, that's not my problem," Alix told him, still hugging his board protectively.

Errol realized he couldn't stay here and argue- that would waste valuable time. He growled a final time, turning on his heel.

"If I see you two ever again, I can promise it won't be pleasant for any of us."

Alix and Austen gulped, but their faces remained indifferent. They watched as the Krimzon Guard sprinted away from them, disappearing around the corner just as their friend had. Alix hoped they'd given him enough time for a good head start.

The busy intersections of Haven Coast had now blurred around him, bright lights leaving behind colorful streaks as he passed them. Mik turned another corner, nearly falling off the zoomer as he did so. Ahead of him, people began shouting and he yelped, searching in a panic to switch hover zones. His hand closed on the rounded handle of a letter and he yanked it up. The zoomer lurched into the air and he came close to falling off of it again. His knuckles were white on the steering bars as he threw another glance over his shoulder, the wind forcing his hair back.

He shot out of the busy sector of the suburbs nestled in the corner of the Coast, knowing he had to get out of the side streets; there was certainly a greater risk of running into something in the alleyways. The smell of Eco fuel was strong in his nostrils; his heart roared in his ears as pulled the zoomer to the right, almost shocked at how different the air suddenly felt. He understood then that he was now out in the open, flying over the still ocean. His terrified and strangely excited reflection met him on the glossy surface as he gazed down below. The Palace lights showed above him in straight lines, as if lighting his path; the moon had risen and showed brilliantly amidst a navy blue sky. He would never forget that image.

Mik straightened up, the cool wind making him shiver, his clothes snapping loudly behind him. His eyes refocused ahead and he felt a gaps escape him as he recognized the familiar outlines of a KG cruiser and another zoomer. They noticed him, too.

"For the love of Mar!" he screeched.

Mik yanked the rounded lever once again and the vehicle lurched to the lowest hover zone, nearly bucking him over the dash. A spray of water splashed at his face but he shook the bangs from his eyes and pressed on.

'_Suspect is short in stature, fair-haired and wearing dark clothing. Currently in pursuit; stolen vehicle number reads _21772_. He is now heading toward the Slums.'_

Hector couldn't help chuckling to himself as he sat in his cruiser listening to the KG scanner. He knew that was Errol's car and it made him laugh to know some punk had stolen it. Hector had just come back from scrounging for food and was presently munching on his toasted chicken and black olives sub as he listened. He started the car back up and pulled into traffic with ease, still scarffing down the sub as he drove. When he'd finished, he let out a small sigh, rubbing the crumbs from his shirt. One moderately entertaining patrol would have suited him just fine…

The neon glare of the Krimzon Guard recruiting station signaled to Mik that he was roughly halfway through the Slums sector. By now, he'd come to the conclusion that he was clearly being followed, and remained on ground level below the traffic. He realized how dangerous this was, but the citizens in his path recognized the car and all moved quickly to get out of his way. His fingers were numb from the cold and his clothes were damp from the ocean water; when he licked his lips he could taste salt.

The zoomer bounced absurdly over the uneven streets and Mik shrieked, clinging for dear life to the handle bars as he went flying into the air. He came back down with a thud, hitting his butt hard on the seat, yelping with pain. His fist struck something on one of the glowing screens and as he struggled to right himself, he became aware he could hear voices.

'_Currently lost sight of suspect; still continuing our sweep and will split up into the other sectors.'_

Mik's stomach lurched. "Suspect?!" he cried, "I'm not a suspect!!"

He became aware of the fact that he needed to get the hell out of the Slums, knowing that it was a definite trap; if he could get to the Bazaar or even the farming sector, he might be able to lose them.

_But what I if I can't?!_

His panicked brain was already thinking of several punishments waiting for him once he was caught. And Torn- what would he think of all this? Mik tried to force the thoughts away, and found it was difficult. All he could imagine was Torn getting so mad that he'd let them throw Mik's sorry butt in prison.

"Stop the vehicle!" a voice bellowed.

Mik snapped out of his weary daze and screamed. A line of KGs had appeared in front of him, each one with a rifle or tasers aimed right at him. The thought of those weapons hurting him in any way chilled him to the bones. In his desperate attempt to reach for the hover zone lever, he hit several other buttons that threw the zoomer into battle mode. Turrets snapped to attention and the engines kicked into over-drive. Mik wrenched the lever up and the vehicle complied; the Guards below watched on somewhat incredulously. He was going too fast, and struggled with the controls. The engines had been geared for battle and were propelling him higher than he could manage. The zoomer hit a pocket of turbulence and flew higher into the air, launching clean over a building. Briefly Mik could see over the entire sector of the Slums before the back end scraped along the roof and a small shower of sparks burst into sight. Mik felt something tug on his leg and a sharp pain followed. He cried out as the zoomer dove nose-first off the roof and back on to the streets. His stomach was doing somersaults, but he still managed to keep driving. The KGs were gone and he shot out of the Slums into the Industrial section. Laughter suddenly took over him as he threw glances over his shoulder.

Now it felt like a race.

'_Damn! We've lost sight of the suspect again! He did some kind of weird move- went over the rooftops- we think he's heading toward the Power Station. Back-up requested!!'_

Hector frowned. All this attention for some punk-ass car thief? He reached for radio and pulled out his comlink with a sigh.

"Cruiser 3091 here. What the hell's goin' on?"

"_I don't now," _was the reply,_ "This guy just can't seem to be caught. It's getting ridiculous- we think he's headed through the Industrial sector now; send a few squads out for interception_."

"Will do. Out," Hector answered.

He turned into another lane, heading to corner the thief in the sector a few minutes away. Typing in another frequency, he smirked to himself, shaking his head. Maybe he'd get that exciting patrol after all…


	3. The Great Escape

It could have very well been the race of his life, and he decided to treat it that way. The KG scanner blared their every move, and Mik knew he could out-smart them if he just calmed down. The continuous growls of _suspect_, _punk_ and _little shit _burned his ears and made him gnash his teeth. He was none of those things, and whether they threw him in jail or not, he knew the proof was in his veins.

He was a born racer.

Never-mind that Errol was the grand champ- Mik was better. Something screamed inside him that he was; he'd always be better and he could prove it to them. He could prove to Torn he wasn't 'just a kid.'

Allowing the fear and adrenaline to take over at once, Mik suddenly became aware of everything: the dull red warning lights on the walkways, the rattling of the engine, the crackling voice on the radio, the strong odor of fuel- all of it had come into sharp focus. Pedestrians below watched as the KG vehicle flew above them in a blur growling as it past. Mik's ears suddenly caught the collective stomping of boots on the walkway off to his left and he turned to watch as a squad of Guards sprinted after him, rifles drawn.

"Pull over! Stop the vehicle!!"

He couldn't. That meant he'd be caught. Mik responded to their orders by switching hover zones yet again, steering beneath the bridge. He swerved to avoid the support towers but could still hear the boots thudding along above him. The soldiers swore and Mik allowed himself a sly grin as he cleared the bridge, heading for the next set of alleyways.

The sudden shriek of alarms made him jump, suddenly terrified all over again. The dashboard had lit up, several of the screens turning red with warnings. Mik beat at it desperately, telling it to shut up. Seconds later, he heard a strange whizzing and his eyes went wide at the sight of tracer rounds shooting over his head. They were firing warning shots at him. Mik shook his head and continued on, trying to shake the blur from his eyes. More shouts came, and he could hear the cracking of gun-fire. A sudden burning sensation caused him to cry out again, and he slapped one of his hands to his cheek. He could feel warmth spreading across his fingers and dread consumed him this time.

_They shot me! They want me dead!!_

Mik barely realized that the bullet had only grazed him, his brain swirling with random images of Tess, Torn and his mother. His breathing now ragged and his body beginning to tremble in fear, he searched frantically for another lever with a bloody hand, still trying to keep an eye on the road.

"C'mon blue stuff! C'mon baby, where are ya?!"

His fingers curled around a small bar and he yanked it back hard, watching in awe as the blue Eco snaked out of its canister and into the engine. Almost instantly, the zoomer threw itself forward. The shock was so severe it almost gave Mik whiplash. He screeched as the vehicle bombed down the remaining stretch of air space, leaving behind a thick blue-green cloud of exhaust. The flames of the afterburners had turned an incandescent blue. Mik wrenched the bike to the left with all his might, leaning off the seat from the effort. It complied to his wishes and twisted itself from the back roads of the Industrial sector into the Bazaar. Mik could smell the familiar odors of spices, fish and fried food, suddenly feeling his stomach twist with hunger on top of everything else. The neon lights reflected brilliantly in his eyes as he drove through panting like a dog, his cheek bleeding profusely.

His shoulders suddenly shook with cackling laughter once again as he realized he was still winning the race.

'_We've lost the bastard again! Cruiser 3091, where's that back-up?!_'

Hector scowled as he drove through the Agricultural sector, briefly glancing at the grazing Yakows in their pens. He snatched up his comlink and replied,

"Well where the hell is he _now_?! Maybe someone could tell me!"

The radio crackled with static and he could hear a few Guards swearing amongst themselves before someone answered him.

'_He just headed into the Bazaar._'

Hector shook his head, pursing his lips. "We can corner him there for sure. I'll get a couple of squads and we'll bet there in a few."

Just before the other man could confirm this action, there came a loud series of scuffling sounds, cracking sharply over the speaker. Hector cringed and dug a finger in his ear.

"_Cruiser 3091!!"_ barked an oddly, out-of-breath voice, "_Pick up!!_"

Hector laughed. "Oh, hey, Errol. What' s up?"

"_Shut up! Get your ass to the Bazaar and arrest the brat who stole my car right NOW!!_"

The line crackled once again; Hector could hear Errol gasping for breath, muttering swears to himself.

"Did you _run_ there, Sergeant?" the former asked, biting down a laugh with all the strength he could muster.

"_As a matter of fact- yes!_" Errol snapped, "_Get over here and set up this blockade before I kill you!!_"

"…Wouldn't that be hard to do, seeing as how you're there and I'm-"

Errol literally snarled and abruptly ended the transmission. Hector grinned as he hung up the comlink and increased his cruiser's speed, heading for where he was needed.

Blue Eco fuel still chugged through the engine as Mik made another hair-pin turn through the maze-like area of the market place. His heart was hammering in against his chest, and he knew that if he so much as blinked he could cause a severe crash in the narrow streets. Several car horns blared as he cut off a line of motorists and he turned hard down another alleyway, silently thanking the Precursors for all the times Tess had dragged him there as a child. Mik knew every street here, every dead-end, but could he remember them at a time like this?

"HEY! Get out of the vehicle!!"

Mik wheeled around to watch as two Guards charged after him in zoomers of their own. Bullets spat out of the turrets and tracers lit up the sky above him as he drove.

More warning shots.

Mik felt himself panicking again, searching futilely for a way out. All that met him were the city walls, the ever-present neon signs and the clusters of citizens who watched on curiously as he drove past. Bizarrely, he felt a strong desire to embrace his mother and her smiling face appeared in his mind, in spite of the fact she had died a long time ago. At the same instant, he felt the now familiar surge of adrenaline course through him; his hair stood on end and his stomach knotted up severely. The Guards continued to shout at him, but he ignored their cries.

_A little competition wouldn't hurt, right?_

With the zoomer still set at battle conditions and the blue Eco reserve pulsing throughout, there was no reason for him to get caught. Mik revved the engine, twisting back the throttle and wrenching the hover zone lever back down. The turret grinded against the ground with a grating scrape, but he ignored it. People screamed and ran to press themselves against the walls as he passed them by. Mik leaned hard to the right, dragging the bike along with him, squeezing through an impossibly narrow lane before lurching out into the next square. His eyes widened suddenly and he tensed, knuckles turning white on the handle bars.

"Dammit!!"

The zoomer smashed through the displays of fruit, vegetables and spices, sending a flourish of food into the air. Water jugs burst open and spiraled brilliantly, every droplet catching the light. Mik yelped as everything obscured his vision, spitting out grains of rice as oranges and melons thudded on to the hood of the car. The windshield was spattered with various colorful goop, seeds sliding down the glass as he drove. With food still whirling around him, Mik decided to go back into the air, chucking a lime and two oranges from his lap irritably. The wind pushed the hair from his eyes and now he could see clearer, feeling juice sting into the gash on his cheek. The scanner suddenly came to life with voices once again.

'_He should be coming right up on you now- any second._'

'_Understood. Ready and waiting_.'

Mik frowned. "What the hell-?"

It was then he caught the sight of the row of cruisers up ahead, blocking the exit of the Bazaar. He could just see the dark red walls of the Palace behind them. More KG zoomers waited ahead as well, flanked by a cruiser and one deadly Hellcat.

Mik felt a sob escape him as his heart plummeted to his stomach. He knew exactly how much damage a Hellcat could do; he'd bugged Torn about riding in one since he was young, and his brother explained its abilities to them as they went on a test run. At that time, everyone understood the yellow and blue striped vehicles were meant to be efficient killing machines, and they were used to their full potential every time. They were equipped with more weapons than any of the other cruisers, even carried missiles. Mik gulped, feeling a tear squeeze out of his eye.

The 360 degree turret would shred his pathetic hide to ribbons…

How the hell could he escape this? His mind swirled with fear and dismay; the lights blurred around him and the tears kept coming. And the idea struck him like a bolt of lightning; Mik reached behind him and his fingers curled around the wooden leg of the boomerang tucked under his belt. It was a long-shot, but he was good with it- Torn had even told him so. Mik realized he was past the point-of-no-return.

He raised the boomerang high in the air, clenched tightly in his fist. The engine roared as he opened the throttle wide; the zoomer leapt forward from the motion, and Mik almost lost his balance, steering only with one hand. He was close enough to hear the warnings of the Guards –'stop or we'll fire!' He could hear the thumping of the cruiser's engines. Mik cocked his arm back and threw the boomerang with all his might. He was close enough to lock eyes with one of the KGs before his other hand grasped the hover lever and pulled it down. He closed his eyes uncontrollably, tensing for pain as he waited for a bullet to punch through his arm. Mik could sense the shadows pressing in on him; the strong odor of exhaust and the loud chug of several multi-cylinder engines.

There came a chorus of swears, followed by strange thudding sounds. Mik's eyes snapped open and the red wall of the Palace was suddenly coming toward him. He shrieked, pulling into a hard turn once again, realizing he'd left the Bazaar and evaded the Krimzon Guard blockade. He switched hover zones, sick of the motion; his head swam every time and he blinked, shaking the spots from his vision. Before he could focus clearly on the road, something heavy struck him hard in one of his shoulder blades. He reached for the object with a frown, then grinned upon seeing it. The boomerang. Mik clenched it in his fist, pumping his arm into the air.

"WHOO!!" he bellowed, "'And he crosses the finish line! He's won it all- aw, I don't _believe_ it!'"

His voice howled excitedly through the cool night air as he continued onward. Mik's impression of the race announcer was spot-on to anyone who might have heard it. The talent came from watching every one of Errol's races since he was eight, but no one would have known such a thing.

After that day, however, maybe they would…


	4. Surprise

"You have got to be kidding me!!" Errol fumed.

He was completely livid, ready to explode at any given moment. The zoomer had shot right under their blockade- the one Errol had set up with what little men he had. Waiting for Hector would have just been another mistake.

But the kid was gone. AGAIN.

Errol had been close enough to feel the wind as the zoomer passed them. He stomped up to the collection of Krimzon Guards that created the roadblock, kicking up dust as he went.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Errol demanded, yelling up at the hovering vehicles, "You had the bastard and you didn't **do** anything!!"

He barely realized the fact that several of the men were massaging their arms or forehead. One of them spoke, the man in the passenger's seat of the Hellcat.

"It's just a kid, Sergeant."

"So?! Some stupid urchin _stole_ my car- do I have to remind you of that?!" Errol screamed, arms flailing.

In another situation, it might have been funny. But he was dead serious, waving arms or not.

"I mean, he's like, a little kid," the Guard replied.

Errol glowered, hoping his fury was getting through to them. "Then we should at least be able to catch him!"

The driver of the Hellcat suddenly went limp and slid from his seat. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, seemingly unconscious. The others just stared at him. Errol pointed incredulously.

"Just what the _hell_ is going on around here?!"

"Well, the kid threw something at us, Sergeant," answered the same Guard from before, "Must've hit Terry right in the head."

Errol growled, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling. He cursed the Precursors several times under his breath before whirling around to face the remaining cruiser.

"Now the little brat is armed," he hissed. "I'm riding with you, trooper, and we're going to catch this idiot one way or another!"

"Yes, Sergeant."

Errol looked back at the unconscious Guard and heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes. After ordering someone to take care of him, the Sergeant hopped into the Hellcat and they took off in the direction the boy had gone, leaving the tattered remains of the blockade behind.

'_Cruiser 3091!!_'

" 'Yello?" Hector answered, snatching up his comlink for the umpteenth time.

"_What's your current position?_" Errol's voice asked him.

The line crackled before Hector replied, the wind blowing his hair roughly.

"We have just passed through the Agricultural Sector and are headed for the Bazaar to assist you guys."

"_Well, the suspect should be coming right for you_," Errol said, the static of the radio doing nothing to mask his rage, "_He made it through he blockade; we've estimated his current position along the Western Palace wall_."

"Wait a minute- you already set up the blockade?" Hector asked, surprised.

"_You were too slow in getting there._ _And besides, he's managed to avoid it, so please_-"

"Didn't you guys at least have a Hellcat?"

"_Dammit, he's headed right toward you! Engage the suspect as necessary and use all efforts to intercept him!_" Errol barked.

"Alright," Hector grinned, "10-4."

Errol ended the transmission before he could, and Hector shook his head. Leaning slightly outside of his vehicle, he motioned to the man behind him to go on ahead. His comrade flashed the thumbs-up and continued onward. A zoomer drove beside Hector for support and they turned a corner, hoping to trap the thief in front of the Palace. With a small sigh, Hector leaned forward in his seat and readied himself for the confrontation.

*******

Endless paper work. It piled on his desk in a seemingly bottomless heap, stamped in red with 'Important,' 'Urgent' or 'Revise.' More vehicles needed approval, weapon designs needed reviewed and recruits needed evaluation. It didn't seem to register with the 'Higher-ups' that the Commander of the Krimzon Guard didn't have the time for bureaucratic things like paperwork. He had men to train, an army to manage; a family and a girlfriend to worry about.

…But of course none of that mattered to Governor Praxis or the Council, for that matter. They constantly dumped paperwork on him at the end of the week- his pathetic little 'mail-box' was stuffed with several multi-colored papers every Friday. When it was too full, they stacked things in front of his door or sent them home to him in giant manila envelopes stamped with 'Urgent.'

Captain Torn was seated awkwardly in his desk chair, slumped so far down in it his eyes were level with the table top. He'd been staring at a ball-point pen for the last half-hour, trying to find the motivation he needed for this task. The word 'secretary' had already come to mind often, but every time he realized he'd be the first Commander to ever need one, so he scratched the idea yet again.

And of course, there was Mik…

The argument they'd had right before he left had hindered his mood the entire day. Even Sergeant Simo, who had only just begun to grunt 'good morning, Commander' to him, asked if he was alright. The truth was he wasn't; he was wracked with guilt by what he had said and he and Mik hardly ever argued with one another. But racing was just too damn dangerous.

Torn sighed, still staring at the pen on his desk, as if trying to move it with his thoughts. He tapped his fingers on the armrest and made a face. The door suddenly opened, but instead of sitting up straight, he remained slouched. A giggle sounded from the entryway.

"Working hard, Commander?"

"Hardly workin' Cap'n," he answered with a smirk.

Ashelin Praxis returned the gesture, leaning against the jamb. For a moment Torn stared at her, but caught himself, realizing if anyone saw the two of them alone together, he'd be in serious trouble. Not that that hadn't stopped them before, but he didn't want to risk it because the door was left wide open. He finally straightened up, hearing his back popping as he stretched.

"Lovely," he yawned, wincing slightly.

Ashelin moved to sit on the end of his desk, folding her hands in her lap. Torn propped is boots up on the table and looked at her.

"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing an eye.

"Turn your scanner on," Ashelin replied, "Errol and Hector are having a hell of a time catching this car thief- hilarious stuff. The whole Fortress is listening."

Torn managed a laugh. "The comedy stylings of Sergeant E. and Corporal H. am I right?"

"Yup. I thought you'd might like to take a break from all your paperwork to listen."

The Commander nodded, gesturing lazily to the scanner buried beneath papers and trinkets Tess had bought for him to 'brighten up' his desk.

"You do the honors, my lady," he said with a wry smile.

Ashelin smiled and slid off the desk to click it on. There was batch of static and the voices came over the speaker soon after. Ashelin nudged the door shut with the tip of her boot and moved to sit comfortably in Torn's lap, propping her feet up on the desk beside his. His fingers laced with hers and they sat in contented silence to listen.

*******

The euphoria was beginning to wear off now and Mik had fallen back into his previous sate of heightened awareness, his wide brown eyes scanning his surroundings critically. He knew his options were whittled down to two choices- South Town or the Farming Sector. Time was running out as he weighed out his decisions, and he knew this. The gash on his cheek glistened a bright red and stung unmercifully as sweat dripped from his bangs and rolled down his face. Mik decided to head for South Town, straightening up in the seat. He could sense his muscles tensing and winced, feeling the cut on his face stretch painfully. The scanner jumped to life once again with a sudden exclamation.

'_We have visual contact! Beginning pursuit._'

"What?!" Mik screeched.

He twisted around to watch in horror as the familiar blue and yellow markings of a Hellcat blurred around the corner coming right for him. Mik barely had time to cry out before he twisted the accelerator again and continued up the pass, praying they wouldn't shoot at him.

"Go a little faster, trooper," Errol ordered, a malicious grin spreading across his face, "Let's get close enough to fishtail the tricky little bastard."

His fellow Guard did not look so thrilled with the idea. "Sergeant, I saw this kid. He looks like he's ten or eleven."

"Right. A _baby_ stole my car? Really, whatever compassion you have left in you should have been stomped out in Basic Training," Errol scoffed.

The Guard sighed and increased his speed. Errol's grin broadened as they closed in his zoomer. They were soon close enough to see the license plate number and the black lettering on the back bumper. Errol loved chases like this, and he was often disappointed with the fact most of them ended after a few minutes. The only problem this time was it was _his_ car that had been stolen. But the Sergeant wasn't above giving the kid a run for his money- Errol was a racer, after all.

Hector knew he was really close; his radar screen was alive with several shapes, but the ruby red objects were Krimzon Guards. He could see that two of them were chasing a small green shape and knew that was the thief. The cruiser ahead of him must have realized this as well, because he had increased his speed. Hector smirked; it was the oldest trick in the book: corner the suspect and force him to surrender. If he didn't, they'd have to take drastic measures. Hector didn't like when they had to do such things- he didn't even like taking people to prison. Violence really wasn't in his nature, but the Guard had drafted him for service and he couldn't refuse. The man traveling ahead of him reported in, catching his attention.

'_I got him right around the corner._'

"Alright," Hector said, "Keep him in your sights- he'll bolt when he sees you."

_Let's see if we can get it right this time_, he thought with a sigh.

Full-fledged hysterics had set in for Mik. He was practically hyperventilating as the foreboding sound of the Hellcat engines drew in closer behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, feeling tears and sweat drip from his cheeks.

"Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh NO!"

The Hellcat was very close, so close he could hear the Guards shouting something. Mik turned to look behind them, and his eyes locked once again with a Krimzon Guard. His stomach lurched horribly and he felt like throwing up. He focused back on the road ahead and let out a terrified scream.

Another cruiser was coming straight for him.

Not knowing what else to do, Mik fumbled for the hover zone lever and wrenched it downward, hearing his hiccupping breaths and the pounding of his heart roar in his ears. As the zoomer lurched down to the concrete, he could feel the exhaust of the Hellcat above rustle his hair. Mik coughed from the stink of the smoke, barely aware of what was happening above him. A strange, impossibly loud noise sounded above him and he ducked his head, feeling something strike him briefly, pulling out a few strands of his hair. The shadows had pressed in so terribly it felt like he was in darkness, until he shot out into the familiar brightness of the Palace lights. Billboards flashed and he sped south on toward the Port, hardly noticing the wreckage he'd left in his wake…

"Oh, for the love of God…" Hector breathed.

He watched as the stolen zoomer switched hover zones and a Hellcat came into view, having appeared out of nowhere. He winced as the driver turned madly in effort to avoid a head-on collision. The cruiser clipped the Hellcat and both vehicles went spinning into tight circles. The Hellcat slammed into the wall and fell to the ground with the shriek of metal scratching against metal. The other cruiser managed to pull out of its spin and land clumsily in the road just ahead of the Hellcat. Hector and the remaining Guard pulled closer, hovering above the wreckage. Hector was relieved to see people moving around.

"Is everyone alright?!" he shouted.

Errol struggled to sit up right, tearing at the seatbelt that was now digging into his chest. He reached over part of the roll cage to grab the shoulder of his comrade, who looked up at him.

"You hurt?" Errol asked him.

"…Think the kid broke my arm," was the pained reply.

Errol gnashed his teeth, finally pulling himself from the seatbelt's death grip and scrambling out from the wreckage. He was relieved to find that the driver of the other cruiser was not hurt, then ran up to where Hector hovered above them and shouted,

"Everyone's fine here! Go get that little bastard and throw his ass in prison!!!"

Hector saluted. "Will do, Sergeant."

Errol wheeled around to help pull the Hellcat driver from his seat as smoke poured from the downed vehicles. He slung the man's good arm around his shoulders as the other Guard staggered up to them, trying to shake away the dizziness.

"All this for stealing my car…" Errol hissed.

Mik was laughing hysterically now, the zoomer swerving every now and then due to the fact his vision was blurring from the sweat and the fading tears. The twelve-year-old was no longer sure if this was the worst or the best day of his entire life, but either way it was coming pretty close to being his last in one way or another. The laughing wouldn't stop and his stomach ached from the spasms as he passed the statues of the former rulers of Haven and the large torches that lit the façade of the building, catching his reflecting briefly in the small pools of water he passed by. The gauges on the zoomer's dashboard read 'nominal' for the most part, but the blue Eco was nearly gone and the lower part of the vehicle was steadily beginning to smoke from the duress it had been put through.

"Ah," he giggled, "It's been one hell of a race!!"

His smile fell as soon as he heard the sound of the approaching vehicles behind him. _They're still following! They're still coming for me!_ Mik twisted the throttle again and he lurched forward into the neon-lit sector of South Town. A part of him knew he might not make it this time, but he tried to shove that thought away to the farthest part of his mind. The fear had come back in a large wave; he could practically feel it weighing down his chest.

The zoomer was suddenly rammed from behind and Mik shrieked, glancing behind him into the angry eyes of a Krimzon Guard.

"Stop the vehicle!" he demanded.

Mik turned around and pressed onward, narrowly avoiding street signs as he went. The Guard slammed into the backend of the zoomer again and Mik almost lost his grip. His heart thudded against his chest so fast it made him dizzy. He reached for his boomerang once again, knowing it was his last resort. Mik hurled it into the air behind him, watching as it arced beautifully through the air and cracked against the Guard's dashboard. He cursed and swerved down to the street, fighting with the controls. Mik barely had time to smile before he realized that there was another damn cruiser on his tail. He turned sharply to his left, heaving the zoomer out over the water to make his last stand.

The kid was good; Hector had to give him that. As his companion somehow lost control, he took it upon himself to go after the thief- and he'd run out of warnings. Hector had to take him out by any means necessary, now, though he'd use weapons as a last resort. He watched as the zoomer swerved in mid air to turn into the area over the water and he followed, his headlights catching the kid's shock of fair hair. It was very risky to go out over the water; the traffic intersected out here and the 'lanes' were hard to determine. Hector narrowed his eyes as the kid looked behind him, leaning over the seat of the zoomer to will it to go faster.

"Sorry, boy…it's my job…"

Hector drove the nose of the cruiser into the bumper of the stolen vehicle. He could hear the kid scream as he nearly flew over the dash. The KG Corporal backed up slightly, then increased his speed and hit it again, flying forward slightly from the collision. He'd hit the zoomer at a slight angle this time, and it lurched heavily to the side. The thief flew out of the vehicle, screaming as he fell. He hit the water with a resounding splash; Hector watched as the zoomer did a bizarre spiral in mid-air, then nose dived straight down. It collided with one of the large cargo ships docked in the bay and exploded on impact. Reduced to nothing but scrap metal, the zoomer hit the water and sank like a stone.

Hector flew in low, parking his car where the perpetrator had fallen. He leaned out of the car, standing on the hood, crouching to wait for bubbles. When they appeared, he plunged his hand into the water.

"Come on, you punk ass kid," Hector growled, "Come on! Get outta there!"

His fingers grazed the softness of hair and he grasped a fistful, yanking the kid out of the water by it. He shrieked and sputtered out water, gasping desperately for air. Hector's scowl had suddenly softened upon forcing the kid to turn around, twisting his hair in his arm. The boy screeched again, thrashing around. His eyes finally opened and he looked up at the Guard who had caught him. The punk coughed out a trail of water.

"Uncle Hector?" he sputtered.


	5. Icky Miky

The corridors were long and dark, strangely cold. The Krimzon Guard Fortress was never a place that welcomed anyone; it all seemed artificial and dreary. The soldiers that passed by looked at him with slight curiosity, but they seemed to be habitually in a foul mood; scowls crossed the faces of every KG they came upon.

The car thief's beaten sneakers squelched across the floor, leaving size-six puddles in his wake. A rough hand had grasped the collar of his jacket, hauling him along the hallways; he fought to keep up with his captor, whimpering slightly every time he stumbled. Whenever they ran into a Guard, the grip increased dramatically and he was practically frog-marched down the hallway, wincing from the effort of keeping up. But when they were alone once again, the grip would lessen, and he was allowed to walk on his own.

Mik continuously sniffed, spitting out the foul, gritty water he'd landed in mere minutes ago. His hair hung into his eyes annoyingly, and no matter what he did, he couldn't see without slicks of hair curling around him. His jacket was heavy and his jeans were completely saturated; they clung to him tightly as did his t-shirt. With every step, water would drip from him and the coldness of the Fortress made him shiver uncontrollably. Mik really wanted to squeeze Hector around the waist and beg him not to take him to Torn, but he knew he couldn't. Tess would have hugged him, criminal or not, but not before she'd punched him for the trouble he'd caused. Mik was desperate enough to hug Errol, even knowing full well the guy would rather embrace a smelling yakow before he hugged a child. He was dying for any kind of comfort, hating himself for wanting such a stupid thing as a hug.

"Uncle Hector, I'm sorry!" Mik said, his voice cracking.

The Corporal had been silent the whole ride to the Fortress, aside from when he'd reported that he'd caught the suspect and would take him in as was necessary. Mik remembered how the Guards had all sounded relieved and happy to hear the news, and ignored the sting of tears. He grabbed for Hector's hand, but he pulled away.

"'Sorry' isn't going to fix this, kid," he said in a low voice, "And your brother might not be able to get you out of it, either."

"So I go to jail?!" Mik wailed, eyes widening, "It was an accident! I didn't mean for any of this to happen!!"

Hector had to laugh. "An _accident_? You blew up a zoomer, dude! And not to mention 2 cruisers-one a Hellcat- and severely damaged one of those cargo ships! I'm sure someone is handing the damage reports to Praxis as we speak, and he's going to be even more pissed when he finds out you did it!"

Mik winced. "But I- I was…"

He trailed off hopelessly, his mind swirling with guilt, laughter, fear and dying adrenaline. Hector dragged him around the corner, Mik ignoring the plastic signs on the walls that read 'Interrogation.' He looked up grimly and spied Ashelin standing further up the hall, just replacing the communicator her belt. She was looking hassled, but Mik didn't seem to notice. He ran up to her and her eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Oh my God! Mik, what happened to you?"

Ashelin knelt down beside him, pushing the bangs up from his forehead to inspect for wounds. Her fingers gently grazed the gash on his cheek and he winced. She looked up at Hector and frowned. His expression remained blank, shaking his head.

"Don't let them throw me in prison," Mik whispered to her. For some reason, she was the only person he could be scared around besides Tess; he knew she wouldn't yell at him for any of this, or tell him horrible things.

"What?" she whispered back, clearly troubled by his sopping wet clothes.

"Please, Ash," Mik said, allowing himself a small sob, "Your Dad and is going to be very mad at me…please don't let him throw me in prison."

She could tell he was serious, though it confused her. It was obvious he didn't want Hector to know he was saying this; she stood up and brought Mik close to her reassuringly. Ashelin turned her now steely gaze to Hector, who grimaced.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked, voice devoid of all softness, "Why is he like this, Hector?"

Before he could say anything, loud, raucous laughter could be heard echoing down the corridors. It sounded almost maniacal, and Mik trembled, tightening his grip around Ashelin. She wrapped her arms around him protectively, not caring that water was still dripping from him profusely. Her eyes narrowed as the shadow came round the corner and was suddenly matched with a familiar figure.

"Errol…what's wrong with you?" she hissed.

He looked up at her with a bizarre smile, clapping his hands together.

"Haven't you heard, my dear Lady Ashelin?" he asked, still smiling, "They finally caught the little bastard who stole my car! Unfortunately it's been totaled, but look on the bright side: at least I get to see the punk face-to-face."

Mik's eyes widened from a gap in Ashelin's arms and he felt a strange sense of doom fall over him, worse than any other feeling he'd felt while escaping from the Guards. It was definitely over now; he was sure he was going to die somehow.

Errol's gaze met Hector's somewhat dejected and guilt-ridden expression and the former frowned, walking up to him.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Corporal. You did a hell of a job today! If I had the authority, I'd promote you for this," Errol told him, playfully punching his shoulder. A look of confusion suddenly crossed his face. "So…where is the filthy brat?"

Mik could feel a small gasp of surprise come from Ashelin, and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to let go of her now.

"Oh…no, Mik," she told him softly.

Her fist gently grabbed a handful of his hair as she said this. Mik could feel Errol's gaze on him, having no doubt noticed the trail of wet footprints that led up to him. Ashelin was shaking her head at the Sergeant.

"Why the hell are you protecting him?" Errol asked, the cheerfulness suddenly wiped from his voice, "He's a criminal, Ashelin!"

"Errol," she warned, but he'd already seized Mik's arm and pulled him away from her.

The boy spun on the spot, water flying from his hair and clothes, sneakers squealing on the tiles below. Errol's expression suddenly turned into one of complete disbelief. Mik hung his head, not wanting to look at him. Errol released his grip from his arm and took a step back.

"…It was you?" he asked incredulously, his voice now surprisingly low. "Mik…what- why did you do it? They could have killed you! I could have killed you!"

Mik felt tears sting behind his eyes as Errol's voice rose to a shout. It was bad enough to realize that himself, and now to have his hero screaming this at him made him feel all the more like a delinquent. He shook his head.

"I dunno," he mumbled, wiping away the gritty water from his neck.

Ashelin gripped his shoulders and brought him back to her, crossing her arms in front of him reassuringly. Errol could only stare at him.

"I'm sorry," Mik said.

The Sergeant ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Right…"

A door suddenly slammed in the corridor ahead, causing everyone to jump. Mik felt a drop in his stomach and he gulped. His brother was walking straight towards them, his thin lips pressed tightly together in a straight line. Mik recognized the look all too well…

He pulled himself away from Ashelin to make it look as though he wasn't afraid anymore, but inside his stomach was churning butterflies and he was sure he was shaking. But a fresh wave of anger replaced most of the anxiety; the argument was still fresh in his mind and Mik could feel the sting of wounds that were invisible to everyone else. His scowl perfectly matched Torn's as the two brothers stared at each other. The tension was almost palpable.

"Torn, please," Ashelin began.

He silenced her with a glare; she bit her lip. Mik was still scowling, panting slightly as the droplets of water created a large puddle around his feet. Torn pointed to the door on his left.

"Mikael Joseph," he growled with deadly calm, "Get your ass in Interrogation Room 3."

Mik felt his hair stand on end at the sound of his brother's gravelly voice, no doubt filled with rage. His ears burned at the sound of his full name, but he didn't move.

"NOW," Torn said.

He jumped a little at the unexpected loudness and darted toward the door, pushing it open as fast as he could. He could feel Torn's eyes burning into the back of his head. The door closed with a snap and Torn blinked, straightening up. He looked at the others who had gathered around, standing in awkward silence as they watched him.

"I'm personally taking command of this arrest," he explained, "Hector, you should have brought him here in handcuffs- that's breach of protocol."

"Yes, sir," he muttered.

Torn's eyes swiveled to Errol, who automatically straightened up.

"I don't want to hear anymore of your gloating, do you understand, Sergeant? The way I see it, you have nothing to gloat about- two cruisers and a cargo ship out of commission does not look good on your part. You should have never let him get close to the damn vehicle."

Errol swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," he said through gritted teeth.

Torn turned to Ashelin, and his eyes only softened slightly. She straightened up as well.

"I'll need to talk with you after the interrogation, Captain. See to it we are not disturbed."

"Yes, Commander," she replied.

Torn grunted his approval. He looked them all over one final time before turning to push open the door with his fist. It snapped closed behind him and echoed in loudly in the hallway.

Mik looked up at him as he walked to the opposite side of the table, his chin on his folded arms. He flinched as Torn dropped a file and a pad and pen in front of him. The Commander eased himself into the chair across from him, lacing his fingers together.

"Sit up straight," he barked, "This isn't a game."

Mik did as he was told, albeit begrudgingly. Torn sneered at him.

"My first of many questions is simple, Mikael," he began, reaching for the pen.

Mik winced at the sound of his name. "What is it, _Max_?" he retorted.

Fire flashed behind Torn's eyes and he leaned forward threateningly. Mik bent back so fast he cracked his head against the top of the chair.

"Keep it up and I'll throw your ass in a cell right now!"

"…Okay, sorry!"

Torn heaved an irritated sigh. "What the hell were you thinking? What possessed you do that?! It's bad enough you stole Errol's zoomer, but you nearly got yourself killed!!"

"I didn't mean to steal it!" Mik protested, "It was an accident!"

"Right," Torn laughed humorlessly, "_Of course _it was an accident! Never-mind the fact that you had to input a recruit number to get the emergency start to work; you just jabbed at the keyboard and got lucky, am I right?"

Mik glowered at him, hiding the arm with the I.D. bracelet under the table. Torn tilted his head, looking at him crookedly.

"It wasn't all my fault, honest! Alix and Austen-!"

"Oh, for the love of God- Alix and Austen! Seriously Mik, if they told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?!"

Mik thought for a moment. "Well…the one in the Coast or the one in South To-"

"THAT DOESN'T MATTER!" Torn roared.

In another situation, Mik might have laughed, but he knew how much trouble he was in. He watched on in silence as his brother scribbled something on the notepad, jaw clenched so tightly a few muscles jumped in his cheek.

"What are you writing?" Mik asked, desperate to break the silence.

His voice rasped and he almost sounded like Torn. The Commander raised his eyebrows as he wrote, shaking his head.

"You're going to have a file, now; you're in the system."

"Is that bad?"

Torn clicked the pen and leaned back in his chair, massaging his forehead.

"Yeah, if you get caught again, it is."

Mik was indignant. "But I don't want a file! I don't _need _one! I didn't mean to steal Errol's zoomer, okay? I just wanted to prove that I could do something. I'm not a baby anymore!"

"No, you're not- you're twelve years old, Mikael!! Sure, you're older now, but that doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want- in the eyes of this city, you're still a child!" Torn fired back, ignoring the eye roll from his little brother. The action made him angrier and his voice rose. "And children don't go around stealing Krimzon Guard vehicles and avoiding blockades!!"

"I wasn't planning on stealing it, Torn! I was just going to drive it around the block so they would shut up!" Mik shouted.

"Shut up about what, kid? About not doing it? Because for once in their lives, your friends would be right about something!"

Mik fell into seething silence, unable to find words to express the swirling anger and gilt that had now welled up inside him. He curled his fingers into little fists and avoided his brother's gaze.

"I just can't seem to get my head around this," Torn hissed, "You wanna know what I did when I was twelve? I was taking care of _you_, Mik! Mom and Dad had to work for a living, and I had to make sure you were alive by the time they got back home. Do you know how frightening it is to take care of a kid who was born prematurely? I thought I was going to kill you if I left you alone for more than a second!!"

"What's that got do with anything?" Mik snapped, "I thought I was in trouble!"

Torn glared at him, clenching his jaw. "I'm trying to explain something to you, but obviously you aren't getting it. You could very well end up in jail for this, and at the rate you're going right now, maybe I don't want to help you. Maybe you just want to take care of this all by yourself, right? Because you aren't a baby anymore."

Mik's brown eyes widened in terror. "Torn! You can't do that- Tessie would kill you!"

"I'm not afraid of Tess," his brother growled.

The boy watched as Torn reached behind him to grab something out of his back pocket. He took it in his fist and slammed it hard on the tabletop, so loudly Mik jumped at the sound. He gulped.

It was his boomerang.

"That was how I found out it was you," Torn explained, his voice low and threatening, "The Med team brought in a Guard with a concussion, and another with a broken arm. I was there to supervise new recruits; one of the guys had that clenched in his hand."

Mik gulped, staring down at the strange 'v' shaped object he'd had since he was eight; something he thought at one time to be a toy. Now it was his weapon of choice.

He could feel tears burn relentlessly behind his eyes and shook his head, sniffling. Torn's eyes were narrowed and bored into his. Mik faltered under his brother's gaze.

"You said I was stupid!!" he suddenly wailed, eyes oddly bright.

Torn blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You said it, Max, you said I was stupid for wanting to be a racer! And you're the one who has a motorcycle; you're the one who told me I could do whatever I wanted to do! And you're the one who got me interested in racing!!"

Mik paused in his tirade to breathe several short little breaths, his voice beginning to fail with imminent tears. Torn stared at him, his expression hard to read for the first time. His little brother still sat in his seat, looking more haggard than ever, his hair finally beginning to dry and curling around his head. He panted slightly, sniffing back tears.

"…I tried to explain to you," Torn replied, calmly.

"Well, you didn't listen to me," Mik said in a weak voice, "You just yelled at me and walked right out the door without letting me say anything!"

"I don't want you to get hurt. Errol was nearly killed a few times in the early days. You remember what happened to him when he won Class 1 the first time?"

"Of course I do- we were there! But that's part all part of it- some of the guys, they race _because_ it's dangerous!"

Mik flailed his arms slightly, desperate for Torn to listen. The Commander frowned at him, as if he didn't recognize who he was. The boy continued.

"I want to race because I like everything about it. I don't care about winning a ton of money or dating pretty girls like Errol does- I want to cross the finish line and win for the City, like he did the first time! He's my hero and everything but…"

Mik furiously brushed away the humiliating tears and scowled.

"I want to be like you. Y'know…how people look up to you? If I can win, Torn, we could take on the entire city as a team- we could make it such a cool place! And I'd use all the race money to build better buildings and stuff or fix the leak in my school's roof….just…stuff like that."

Mik slowly turned his head to gaze up at his older brother, who was staring at him now, an odd expression falling over him.

"That's all I wanted to tell you, Max, but you slammed the door in my face."

There was a deep silence that followed, Mik's words hanging thickly in the space between them. Torn fell into a daze, his eyes scanning the dull features of the interrogation room. Mik took in a few shaking breaths and rustled his clothes, but nothing more was said until Torn stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the tiles harshly.

"…Stay right there until I get back," Torn murmured, still gazing off into space.

"Where are you going?" Mik wanted to know, a sharp edge to his voice.

Torn didn't look at him, walking to the door instead. "Stay there," he repeated, much more firmly this time.

The door closed with a snap and Mik buried his face in his arms.


	6. Partners in Crime

Ashelin was waiting outside for Torn, having been leaning against the opposite wall, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Hector and Errol were still further down the hallway, standing awkwardly in wait. Torn could tell Ashelin was worried as she walked up to him, wringing her hands.

"…My father wants to speak with you," she said.

"Of course he does," Torn whispered. He looked into her eyes. "Take Hector and sit with my brother until I come back from the meeting. Don't let anyone come to take him away from you- if there's any problems, threaten to contact me; that should shut 'em up."

He motioned for Hector as Ashelin replied,

"You don't have a plan. It's blind luck if Father doesn't know you're related to Mik."

Torn looked down at her crookedly and sighed. "Well…that's my usual kind of luck, isn't it? The blind, cruel kind."

Hector appeared at his shoulder and Torn relayed the same information to him as he had told Ashelin. He nodded in agreement, saying,

"Do you want me to tell Tess?"

Torn briefly closed his eyes, as if thinking. "Yeah, tell her. She's probably wondering where he is by now. And if you can find Alix and Austen, that wouldn't be bad thing, either."

Hector smirked. "We're going for full-fledged scare tactics, huh?"

"Oh, yeah."

Torn gently squeezed Ashelin's hand and left her behind with Hector, heading back through the corridors to meat with Governor Praxis. Unfortunately, Errol was in his way.

"Commander," he started.

"Not now, Sergeant," Torn rolled his eyes, "I'm a little busy, in case you haven't noticed."

Errol was a persistent man of course, and Torn knew this. He quickened his pace, but the Sergeant followed.

"You can't throw that boy in prison," he said.

Torn rounded on him. "Of course I can't, you idiot! Mik is my brother- he's all I got left; would I really _want _to do that?!"

Errol continued to follow him as they turned the corner, avoiding other Guards as they passed. Torn seemed to be the only one on a set course, eyes firmly planted ahead; the others moved out of his way, and he just kept right on going. Errol was the one avoiding people, making it look like he was doing some kind of bizarre dance.

"That's not what I meant," he said, "You can't let Praxis take Mik from you. And after all the threatening you gave the poor kid-"

Torn stopped walking and Errol nearly slammed into him.

"Let me ask you something, Sergeant," he sneered, "As I recall, in the past few years you've turned into quite the arrogant little prick. And I realize part of that might be due to the fact I took your brother's position, but honestly- why is Mik so damn important, huh? Why is he able to pull you away from your money, your women, your wine- I'm curious!!"

Errol said nothing at first, inwardly grimacing at the mention of his own brother. Torn stood above him, seething; It was quite obvious he was ready to split at the seams with agonizing anxiety. Errol straightened himself up.

"Because Mik is the only kid I've cared to worry about," he said.

Torn narrowed his eyes. "Well, now there's some compassion, Sergeant. I thought it disappeared along with you after you became the Champ."

Errol gnashed his teeth as they began walking again. "The second time, not that it's any of your concern, I won it for Phoenix," he said evenly.

Torn's eyes suddenly widened as an idea struck him. He turned wildly to face Errol, grabbing his arm.

"What?" the Sergeant demanded.

"Phoenix," Torn mused, "That's it! You, Phoenix…and Dynn."

"What are you talking about?" Errol questioned, tearing his arm from Torn's grasp.

The Commander ran up the remaining stretch of hall, leaving him in confused and unbelieving silence. Errol shook his head and threw up his hands in surrender.

*******

The office of Governor Praxis was considerably more spacious than the Commander's, but it was not nearly as inviting. There was hardly any color to the room, other than the large panoramic window that stretched from one end of the room to the other. A long wooden desk sat in front of it, along with a high-backed chair; the walls were the same industrial grey as the rest of the Fortress, and a scarlet banner hung from one of them, baring the symbol of the rulers. The only thing personal Praxis seemed to allow himself were a few pictures on his desk of his daughter as a little girl, wearing a frilly white dress and sandals. A few pens, important documents and a strange-looking paper weight also complimented the items on the table.

Torn had found a seat in front of Praxis, holding four thick folders tightly in his palms. He was staring at the pictures of Ashelin, trying not to laugh at how ridiculously curly her hair was. She even had freckles. The Governor suddenly caught his attention by clearing his throat, a deep rattling sound that made Torn look right up at him.

"I've heard that you personally took command of this arrest," Praxis began, deep voice seeming to fill up the entire space.

He was framed oddly against the bright cityscape, half doused in shadows. Torn adjusted himself in the seat, sitting up straighter. Praxis had never really appeared to approve of him, always critical of his actions; the two had gone head-to-head when Torn was a recruit.

"Yes, sir, I have," he replied.

"An interesting move on your part, I must say."

Praxis reached for a small pile of papers in front of him. Torn watched, knowing exactly what they were; he recognized the watermark of Damage Control on them.

"As you know, tonight's arrest required a ridiculous amount of manpower- the suspect was caught around 2100 hours, and Sergeant Errol's vehicle was reported stolen at 2000. I've never seen someone avoid arrest that long, not to mention lead an entire two sector's worth of men through the city."

Torn raised his eyebrows. "Neither have I, sir."

Praxis grunted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Torn understood then just how long Mik had avoided arrest- it was hell of an accomplishment…

"In the end, here is the damage report in its first draft. These are all subject to change, as they were quick to inform me," Praxis continued in his deep baritone, "One destroyed Krimzon Guard zoomer, 1st class model; two cruisers forced into a near head-on collision, with damaged exhaust coils, engines over-worked and chassis and fender dents." The Governor looked up at Torn with a displeased expression. "They told me more damage was to come from these two, though the Hellcat is what I'm most worried about."

Torn nodded, though he tried to conceal his surprise. Mik had out-run a Hellcat. And not only that, but he'd smashed one up, too. Praxis' voice brought him back from his thoughts.

"And finally, one cargo ship, which was taking in water heavily on the port side; recently patched up by the rescue team and Damage Control. It is not expected to return to service for a few months."

Torn watched as the Governor let the papers slip from his grasp and float down on to the table.

"420, 723 in adjusted dollars, minus payload of course. For everything."

The Commander winced. Praxis leaned back in his seat and gazed at him critically, his only visible eye narrowed. Torn cleared his throat.

"I'm sure I can guess your question, sir," he said.

"And how about it, Commander?"

"We're going to pay for it- we can't make the suspect do such a thing. At this point in time, it would be an assault on his personal rights."

Praxis tented his fingers, leaning forward slightly.

"I'm going to agree with you on that, in spite of how much I believe the brat should pay for all he's destroyed. The Council will have to ask for Damas' permission, but we should be able to make a payment once everything has been fully assessed."

"Yes, sir," Torn said, aware that he had been unconsciously bending the edges of the folders in his lap.

"Well, let's decide if the punishment fits the crime and we can all go about our normal business," Praxis sighed, gathering up the papers and dropping them into a nearby drawer. "Let's give the delinquent what we always do- the standard year in prison and the penalty of waiting until he's twenty-one to get a driver's license."

Torn found himself terrified at these requests. He could feel his knees slightly knocking beneath the folders, picturing Mik shivering himself to sleep in cold, damp cell with other troubled kids shouting at him for being a wimp. That strange paternal instinct had finally kicked in as he met Praxis' gaze once again.

"No. We can't do that."

Torn didn't like the glare that had appeared across the Governor's face, but he knew that wouldn't affect his decision.

"Then what, may I ask, do you suggest?" Praxis asked him, almost threateningly.

Torn steeled himself, straightening up in his seat. "I interviewed the kid…he's only twelve years old, sir."

"Then we throw him in Juvenile Prison for a year; are you telling me you disagree with my orders, Commander Torn?"

"Yes. And for as long as you've known me, it shouldn't seem out of ordinary."

Torn nearly regretted what he said, practically able to feel the surge of rage coming from the man sitting across him. But his thoughts were only of Mik.

"Watch your mouth, Torn. This is not off the record," Praxis warned. "We have thrown teens in Juvie before and you never protested. What makes this one different?"

Torn scowled. "With all due respect, sir, this is the first time I've ever intervened in Krimzon Guard business that does not reach my authority. As Commander, I feel obliged to have an understanding of what goes on down here. And we shouldn't be throwing kids in prison."

Praxis narrowed his eyes, obviously not used to anyone questioning him, even the one person who was technically allowed to. They watched each other for a moment, as if participating in a childish 'staring contest.' Praxis blinked; had they been playing, Torn would have won.

"What makes this punk different?" the Governor growled, drumming his fingers on the table.

Torn tried to hide a smirk as he dropped the four heavy folders on to the desktop in front of him. Each one was labeled with a name and marked with a red sticker, save for two of them, which were stamped with 'KIA' in dark blue.

"Of course, these folders include the information of four Krimzon Guards: Myself, Sergeant Errol, Captain Phoenix and Corporal Dynn."

Praxis snorted. "And? You better have a good reason for bringing Phoenix's file into this mess."

Torn tried to ignore the Governor's obvious disrespect for Corporal Dynn, but found it difficult. His voice came out in semi-snarl as he continued.

"Each of these men has something in common- they were all racers at one point in time while serving in the KG. Dynn, as you know, was the Champion before Errol, and both of them were Guards during the time they were racing. Captain Phoenix was the best racer even before Dynn, the only difference being he quit to commit to the KG."

"You were never a racer," Praxis chuckled.

Torn's eye twitched. "No, but I had that motorcycle- you remember, don't you, sir?"

"Oh, yes. Of course…you were _always_ driving around on that damn thing- we could hear it from up here, that's how loud it was. How could I forget?" Praxis heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "It's a shame that's what got you on Phoenix's good side."

Torn grinded his teeth. "Sir, the boy we caught today is a racer himself. He goes to the stadium every week to practice riding the NYFEs, doing research, even fixing vehicles. Ask any one of the mechanics and they'll mention him by name. Even Errol can tell you who he is- the kid is his biggest fan."

Praxis hesitated, but only for a rare moment. "What does this have to do with his punishment?"

Torn reached for Errol's file and flipped it open. He scanned through a few pages, ignoring the recent psychiatric evaluations to grab for the papers that were oldest. His finger prodded a large paragraph, filed by the Krimzon Guard.

"Dated 6 years ago: '_Junior in the KG Academy, skipped classes and was found at the stadium. Cadet Errol, aged 16, captured after stealing Captain Phoenix's personal vehicle from the Krimzon Guard Barracks_.'" Torn reached for the Captain's file next, sifting through all of the pictures for very old reports filed years past and continued. "Dated 15 years ago: '_Freshman in the KG Academy reconfigures the plans for military zoomer engines- awarded with a badge of honor, youngest to receive. Cadet Alan 'Phoenix', aged 13, captured the same year after stealing racing vehicle NYFE and driving on civilian streets_.'"

"Commander-" Praxis interrupted, but Torn shook his head.

He flipped opened yet another file and read the contents, his voice louder this time.

"Dated 9 years ago: '_Dynn, aged 15, captured outside Krimzon Guard recruiting station for stealing stepfather's vehicle and led a chase through the city. Was drafted into service the same night_.'" Torn paused to fix Praxis with a pointed look. "And then we have me. Dated 3 years ago: '_Corporal Maxious 'Torn,' reported tardy for several training sessions due to use of motorcycle vehicle; said machine was later confiscated by order of Captain Phoenix and dismantled after the Corporal was involved in a barroom fight with fellow recruit_.'"

"What is your point to all of this nonsense?" Praxis barked, obviously irked by the fact Torn could have a valid purpose hidden amidst this information.

"My point is, Governor Praxis, every one of us with so much as an _ounce _of racing in our blood has gotten into several brushes with the law, and none of us have been thrown in prison!" Torn shouted, throwing his file distastefully on top of the others, "And this boy deserves to be treated as all the other racers before him."

Praxis could only glare at him. Slowly, he rose to a standing position and Torn followed his actions, fingers curled into fists. The lights from the cityscape outside cast a dull glow inside the room, adding to the gravity of the silence between them. Torn could tell the Governor was thinking things through; he was sure Praxis understood how well Torn knew the Royal family. If he had to, he'd ask for their assistance.

"…Very well, Commander. I see your…_point_," he spat, "'Punish' the boy as you see fit. But never again come running in here to wave Captain Phoenix's file in my face. Sometimes I wonder if the man knew what he was doing when he wished for you to take his place."

_He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted me to be able to stand up to you…_

"Thank-you, sir," Torn answered a bit stiffly, fighting to hide a triumphant smile.

Praxis grunted his reply and fell back into his seat as he watched the Commander gather up the folders in his arms and promptly leave the office. The door slammed closed behind him, as if an exclamation point to his argument.

*******

"I'm hungry," Mik yawned.

He closed his eyes as Ashelin comfortingly ruffled his hair, laying his head on her shoulder once again. His jacket was crumpled on top of the table in a heap; the boomerang remained clenched in his hands.

"We'll get you home soon, Miky," she told him, "I'm sure Tess had dinner ready for you and Torn."

The boy opened his eyes and looked up at her grimly. "Maybe it's my last meal."

Ashelin frowned. "Don't say things like that."

She hit him lightly on the shoulder before bringing him back to her for a hug. Hector was standing by the door, having already argued with Errol about coming to see Mik. He looked almost as tired as the twelve year old. Mik sighed and fiddled with the small plastic cup in front of him that had once held water. It reminded him too much being in the doctor's office for some reason as he watched the leftover droplets pool in the bottom of the cup.

Apparently waiting to go to jail was just like waiting to see the doctor.

The door opened, causing everyone to turn their heads simultaneously. Torn walked into view, looking at them strangely for a moment. He couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at his lips.

"Apparently we didn't have any clothes that could fit him."

Mik scowled; Ashelin grinned, tousling his hair. "Well, I looked, but could not find."

Torn's brother was wearing a pink t-shirt, which belonged to Ashelin of course. It had been cropped to become a 'belly shirt' but it fit Mik like a regular one, due to how tiny he was. His hair had dried into a peculiar halo of curls and it was apparent Ashelin had made sure he'd cleaned his face of the dirt.

"I need to speak with him," Torn said, "Would you guys mind giving us a moment?"

Hector nodded. Ashelin squeezed Mik's shoulder and reluctantly left him behind. Before leaving, she stopped in front of Torn and gave him a stare. He winked.

"I'll see you outside, Captain," Torn said in a firm voice.

Ashelin hid her smile as she left, the door closing once again with a thud. Torn's speculative gaze fell to his little brother, who automatically sat up straight in his chair, trying to look tough in spite of the fact he was wearing a pink t-shirt and still-sopping-wet jeans. He watched as the soldier moved to slump into the seat across from him, dropping three papers on the table between them. Mik ignored the documents, staring up at his brother with worried eyes. Torn looked at him for a moment, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. Mik's shoulders sagged.

"Get on with it," he said, "They're shipping me off, aren't they?"

Torn raised his eyebrows. "I spoke with Governor Praxis…he was not amused with anything that had transpired."

The Commander straightened up in his seat, lacing his fingers together as he surveyed his little brother inquiringly. He understood how harsh it was to let Mik believe he'd be going to prison, but the kid needed to be scared straight. He whimpered slightly, squirming in his seat uncomfortably.

"Torn, say something!"

He heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "You know, I had a hell of a time talking to him, Mik; the guy is very set in his ways…"

Mik had turned pale, faintly shivering; he wasn't even cold. Torn leaned forward over the table, scowling. His brother looked close to tears once again. A smile burst across Torn's face so fast Mik was scared by it.

"But I fucking _got_ him, kid. You're not setting foot inside a jail- ever."

Mik leapt out of his seat so quickly he knocked it over; it skidded into the wall with a clacking sound and the boy threw himself into his brother's lap, seizing him in an incredibly tight embrace.

"Thank-you, Torn! Thank-you!!"

He closed his arms around Mik and brought him into a more comfortable position, but the twelve year old didn't loosen his grip. He buried his face in Torn's chest, sniffling.

"I won't do it again- I swear. I won't even go to the stadium if you don't want me to! I promise!" Mik cried in a muffled voice.

"You can still go to the stadium," Torn told him, half-laughing. He gently ran his fingers through Mik's hair, shaking his head at the tangles he found. "I shouldn't have stopped you from going, anyway…and I'm sorry for our argument. Hell, kid- maybe this is all my fault."

Mik unburied his face, leaving a few tear marks on his brother's shirt. He rubbed his eyes and nodded, smirking.

"Yeah- _you're _fault."

Torn made a face, pulling teasingly on his hair. Mik hugged him again before sliding from his lap, scratching a spot on his neck where the dirt still remained.

"I didn't save your ass by myself," Torn told him, reaching for the papers on the table. "You better thank Captain Phoenix, Dynn and Errol, too."

Mik took the documents in his fingers, frowning curiously at them. As he read, his eyebrows raised and his cheeks flushed. He looked back up at Torn, who laughed.

"Yeah, they were all punk-ass racers like you, kid. And they managed to weasel their way out of any sort of punishment. So, congrats, Mik; you've officially joined the ranks."

The boy grinned, carefully folding up the papers and holding them close. Torn rose to his feet, grabbing him by the shoulder and walking toward the door. He grabbed the saturated jacket from the table as he went.

"Of course," he sighed, "That doesn't mean _I'm_ not punishing you…"

Mik winced as they walked outside Interrogation Room 3, Torn still steering him around by his arm.

"Yeah, that's right. No JET-Board; you'll only go to the stadium on Wednesdays and weekends instead of every day, and you won't finagle your way there using Uncle Hector, either. You will no longer resist chores; I'll have Tess teach you how to do laundry- I'm sure she'll be thrilled about that idea."

Mik narrowed his eyes and cringed in disgust. Dirty clothes were something he did not look forward to. Torn reached down to snatch the boomerang from his brother's hands; Mik whined.

"-And this now belongs to me," Torn said, "Deal with it."

Mik grumbled, but didn't dare argue further. Torn led him back through the KG Fortress, a very different trip than the one he'd taken earlier with Hector. Now the Guards they passed only snickered at him, due to the fact he was wearing Ashelin's pink t-shirt. Secretly, he thought it was very comfortable and it slightly smelled like her perfume, which he found calming. Torn left him in the small entrance hall, pushing him gently into a chair.

"I'll be right back- you stay there."

Mik saluted. "Yes, Commander, sir."

Torn rolled his eyes, flopping Mik's jacket ever his head, and soon disappeared from view. Mik watched him leave, kicking his legs as he sat in the chair, gazing around the room. When he was bored of that, he flipped through the documents Torn had copied for him, knowing that they were special. He was now one of a select few- and all of those men had won the Championship. Mik was certain he was next. A small smile crossed his face as he read over what each of the men had done. The scrape of boots caught his attention, and he turned to face who was now standing over him.

It was Errol.

"Oh…um, hi," Mik stammered.

"Hello, Mikael," he replied, moving to walk in front of him, "Do you have a moment?"

"Guess so." Mik shrugged.

Errol cleared his throat, arms folded behind his back. He took a moment to think as Mik stared up at him.

"…I wanted to let you know that I'm not angry with you- anymore- about what happened. In all actuality, kid…I've never seen someone do the things you did today."

Mik's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes. The only one who might have been able to do those things was Phoenix, of course. And I'm not as good as he was." Errol sighed, moving closer to where Mik sat. He knelt down in front of his chair so that he was eye-level with the boy. "Listen…you're lucky, Mik. You have talent, and not only that, but you have a brother who is there to help you. Don't take him for granted- do you understand what I mean?"

Mik nodded. "Are you okay, Errol?" he asked, sounded genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine," he laughed, an actual smile crossing his face, "I always thought you were a good kid- car thief or not. Believe me; I know what it's like to _need_ to race. Don't give up on what you want, okay?"

"I won't."

Errol nodded slightly, cuffing him playfully on the arm. Mik smiled.

"Right. Oh, I want you to have something…" Errol held up his other hand, and clenched in his fingers was a racing mask, one that looked similar to the one he wore, only made out of a slivery armor. Thin strips of blue went along the sides and the eyeholes were a clouded dark green.

"Wow!" Mik squealed, taking it in his hands, "A real racer's mask! But…wait. Errol, wasn't this yours?"

"Phoenix's, actually. It was the first mask he ever used, and the first one I wore before he bought me the one I use now. I think it suits you, kid- now you don't have to make them out of cereal boxes anymore," the Sergeant answered with a grin.

Mik looked embarrassed, but Errol tousled his hair and a smile appeared. The soldier rose to his feet and nodded to him.

"Next time I see you, I'll let you ride one of the NYs, since you've resorted to stealing things for an adrenaline rush."

Mik stuck his tongue out at Errol as he left, shaking his head. Torn reappeared soon after, gesturing for the boy to follow him. Mik fumbled with the straps of the racing mask, fastening the chin strap correctly over his jaw. Torn sighed.

"Alright, where the hell did you get that?"

"Errol," was the reply.

Torn growled, watching as Mik flipped the faceplate down. His wide brown eyes showed through the dark protective glass- one could tell he was smiling behind the thing, due to how his eyes squinted. Torn couldn't help laughing himself. He slung an arm across his brother's shoulders as they walked from the Fortress into the cool night.

"Alright, my little adrenaline junky, let's go home."

Mik pushed the mask to the top of his head and beamed.

**Author's note: That's the end! I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! Thanks so much for reading this far- I appreciate. Thank-you to everyone who reviewed- you guys are the best. :D And I would love for more feedback, especially in regards to Mik and Errol's little moment at the end. (Yes, the guy can be caring for a change!) ;) See you next time, dear readers. ~Captain Hilts. **


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